


Over Many Setting Suns

by countingpaperstars



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crushes, Deal with a Devil, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magic, MerMay 2018, Mermaid!Prompto, Mermaids, Mischief, Muteness, Pining, Seawitch!Ardyn, disney meets hans christian andersen meets ffxv, prom experiencing the human world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-05-06 05:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14635128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingpaperstars/pseuds/countingpaperstars
Summary: “I wish… for human legs,” Prompto says, eyes averted as shame burns hotly in his cheeks. It sounds like a silly fantasy, fragile as it’s spoken into the air outside the tender cocoon of his heart.“Well, I daresay you’re in luck. You’re hardly the first I’ve helped with such a request." Ardyn saunters to the shelves and trails his long fingers over the dried plants. The glass jars full of viscous liquids slosh when he taps them. "I can give you what you want." He pauses, shadows cutting fierce across his wide smile. “For a price.”





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emsandman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emsandman/gifts).



> Happy Mermay everyone!! This honestly took on a life of its own. It was originally supposed to be an xmas gift for pigeon-princess ~~whoops~~ better late than never right? Big thanks for her for helping inspire this story  <33 and to Tera for being and awesome cheerleader ;; love u dudes. Title is from Sun by Two Door Cinema Club.
> 
> Enjoy~

“Prompto slow down!”

His resounding laughter scatters a nearby school of fish as he weaves through the tall kelp fields. The wavering stalks brush against his skin like gossamer, flitting gold scales of his tail bright against a forest of green as he playfully zigzags back and forth. 

Cindy’s frustrated muttering closes in behind as she catches up to where he's hovering along the craggy cliff to the side of their home. It’s a sheer drop to the sea floor outside the barrier - dull, grey silt stretching along the bottom as far as they can see. Excitement thrums in Prompto’s veins and he starts forward only to be yanked back by Cindy snagging the strap of his bag.

“C’mon Cin, have a sense of adventure,” he groans, but she strengthens her hold.

“We shouldn’t.”

Prompto catches her hands, tilting his head as he considers her. The fan of her tail drifts low and uncertain, bright red stark against the billowing curls of her hair. A frown pulls at her lips and Prompto gives her a conspiratorial grin.

“We’ll be back before they realize,” he says and tugs her along. They float backwards until they catch the drift of a current. “Don’t you want to see?”

“Yeah, but,” she pauses, brows pinching. “Pa’ll be mad.”

She peers over his shoulder at the vast stretch of emptiness beyond their borders. Despite her protests, a spark gleams in her eye - same as the day Prompto had shown her his collection - and he knows he has her. He pulls his hands from her grip. “You can stay if you like.”

“No!” she shouts, snatching them back before smiling sheepishly. “I mean, who else will keep you out of trouble if I don’t.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Holding onto her hand, Prompto swims straight down until he spots the first rock marker of the path. She's in better spirits with her protesting out of the way, humming as they make their way across the barren ground. Prompto would have gone alone if she was truly uncomfortable - not as if he hadn’t time and time before - but he’s been looking forward to this; to sharing the secrets and adventure. 

At first it had been an occasional escape to help him feel settled, but as time wore on the novelty became more of a passing comfort and he found he wanted to pass on the excitement. Their friendship wound tight enough to rival a familial bond and he made up his mind as he watched her fiddle with the gears of one of his stowed treasures. 

When they reach the edge of the barrier she presses close, glancing between the unknown ahead and the kelp fields high above.

“It’s not far,” Prompto says and she doesn’t protest when he leads them through the blue shimmer of protective magic. Little more than a cold current washes over them before they’re out.

In their histories, the first merpeople had adapted for camouflage and hunting, but generations spent on the reef with the crystal’s protective magic leaves them exposed - bright and vulnerable against the sea’s monochrome palette of blues and greens. Anyone could catch sight of them in a double edged game of risk.

With this in mind Prompto speeds them along, following the line of path markers with practiced ease. His skin pricks with lingering unease as an unwelcome third guest, until at last out of the gloom a towering mast rises out of the ground like a pillared gate.

The sea is rougher, as wild and untamed as the Tidemother herself, dragging down those seeking safe passage up above. As they pass the mast Prompto offers her a prayer - an incantation passed between all of Leviathan’s children whom she saved so long ago in a rare bout of compassion.

Beyond the gate lies a graveyard of ships, wood bloated and crumbling around the stores of secrets and wonders they dragged down with them. Prompto makes for the next one on his list, rubbing his necklace pendant and thinking of all the treasures plucked straight his mother's tales.

“This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen," says Cindy.

The awe in her voice sends a thrill in Prompto’s veins. “Just wait.”

The ship has undoubtedly seen better days where it skimmed across the surface of the sea instead of sitting despondently at the bottom of it, its metal embellishments tarnished and figurehead all but indistinguishable. He squeezes through one of the portholes with Cindy close behind and her shoulders relax as they slip out of sight. 

Safe inside, Prompto digs a couple of rocks out of his bag and hands one over. They’re similar to the ones lining their streets back home and although their eyes are fairly keen in the pitch dark, the soft glow of their bioluminescence makes it easier to identify their surroundings. 

An old picture of a family hangs on the wall, colors washed away and fading, and Cindy reaches out to trace the figures. Prompto circles the room, opening drawers and cabinets to hunt for discarded objects of interest. He avoids the shelves of bound fragile sheets lined with incomprehensible squiggles, desire long lost to try and comprehend, and instead he finds a shining hair pin in the stand next to the bed. The elegant petals of a blooming white plant curl back against the clip and he swims over to Cindy, pushing it into the loose locks of hair. 

He ushers her towards an old mirror cracked on the wall and she reaches out to touch their clear reflections. “Not so bad, yeah?”

“‘spose not.”

It’s a good find in the way of shipwrecks - young enough that it hasn't lost its marvels to time - and he fills his bag with tiny pearls in the strands of a necklace, several shiny, round pieces with faces on them, and an ornate trinket with jagged edges like teeth along the side. He's rummaging through another drawer in search for more of the pronged mini-tridents he likes so much when Cindy barrels into him.

“What-” He's stifled by a hand over his mouth as she presses them low against the wall.

A shadow falls through the porthole beside them against the opposite wall and Prompto stuffs his rock in his bag to smother the light, heart thudding wildly against his chest. The water smells of shark, a permeating scent he's crossed paths with once or twice. He'd always beat a swift retreat, aware of the stories detailing their taste for mers. Whether it's truth or fable to scare them off from open water, he doesn't know. Nothing good will come from sticking around to find out.

Creeping along the wall in the opposite direction, he takes Cindy’s hand and firmly shuts his satchel. They’ll have to make a break for the safety of the barrier, but it will be a close race if the shark catches wind of them. When he peeks over the edge of the deck and the coast is clear, Prompto prays to the Tidemother and counts to thirty.

They make it halfway to the gate before hell breaks loose, a crash of splintering wood heralding the shark as it gains ground. Cindy shouts when Prompto shoves her ahead, tucking under in a swift turnabout. It’s not his smartest idea, but rushing headfirst towards the shark certainly gets its attention. His heart quails at the sight of its glinting, needle-sharp teeth, but he charges on regardless.

A breath away from becoming dinner he ducks down, tail fin brushing the shark’s underbelly, and takes off for a nearby ship. It buys him time as the shark doubles back in a wide, lumbering arc, and he quickly catalogs his assets. He’s got the semblance of a plan brewing when it catches up and he dashes down into the cargo hold. The shark follows, clumsily battering the halls.

It's a tight fit for it and it slams into the walls as they round corners. When Prompto finds what he’s searching for he has just enough time to loop the ends of the net around the support beams before the shark barrels into the room. It’s going too fast to stop and launches into the net at full speed as Prompto turns tail for the open porthole. 

A sharp crunch resounds as the beams snap, weakened by ages of decay, and the roof shudders as it collapses. A chunk hits Prompto’s arm, nearly throwing him off course, but he hangs on and speeds for the exit, barely managing to slip through before the whole thing comes crumbling down. The force of the collapse propels him forward in a wave of fizzing bubbles and his gills flutter as he comes to a halt. 

Head spinning, he makes for the gate. The graveyard falls deathly silent once more and it’s only when his arm gives a pitiful throb that he realizes he’s bleeding. The cut is jagged across his bicep and he pulls a thick salve from his bag, slathering it on to staunch the flow.

Cindy launches from behind the gate where she was hiding. “That was too close,” she says, and snags him by the wrist, checking over their shoulders as they speed home. “Let’s never do this again.”

“Aww Cin, you don’t like your hairpiece?”

She shoots him a withering glare and he laughs. Lifting a hand to trace the ornate flower still tucked into her curls, she says, “I think that was enough excitement to last me a lifetime.”

They make fast time, retracing the markers back to the edge of the barrier - a rippling glimmer in the dark. The lights of Altissia shine beyond the tall stalks of the rural fields and as they slip through the kelp Prompto snags a broad leaf, twisting it over the cut of his arm in a snug knot.

The thoroughways are packed with mers of all shapes, sizes, and colors going about their business. The term has a lax meaning within their borders - joyful laughter following them down the boulevard past store vendors selling charms and fresh fish from the hunting grounds. Everyone's in no hurry at all, calm within their prosperous, self-sufficient society watched over by the Tidemother and all her blessings.

At the center of the metropolis rests the palace, modestly built and decorated in the same style as the city. It's a true blend of eons with old, brick walkways leftover from the surface years and arching bridges and canals overcome with coral rock and sealife tucked in every nook and cranny. 

When they enter the main halls the guards incline their heads as Prompto swims by, Cindy trailing along as they head for his chambers before a flash of teal cuts them off.

“Her Majesty is waiting for you,” Dino says, and Prompto winces. He’d hoped his absence would go unnoticed as usual, but they spent much longer outside than he planned.

Prompto exchanges a glance with Cindy. “I’ll find you later?”

When she reaches to pull the pin from her hair he stops her, smiling as he tucks it back in for her to keep. With a sheepish grin she pulls him in for a tight hug before leaving him alone. With Dino.

“Someone’s in trouble,” he says smugly, crossing his arms.

“Shut up.”

He doesn’t check if Dino follows, continuing down the twisting halls and branching towards the throne room instead of his own chambers. The guards open the doors for him, ornately carved rock the same as the columns inside, studded with colorful gems. Fresh water flows through the empty window arches, the walls covered in a patchwork blanket of moss and it ripples the soft green seagrass floor. 

On the throne sits a young merwoman, the sleek, grey scales of her tail glinting in the light as it sways. A crown of woven plants and shells rests delicately on her head, held in place by coiled silver braids falling down her back in a waterfall. She grasps a shining trident, the ends twisted into points, and behind her looms a curving crescent sculpture surrounding a giant geode pulsing with magic - gifts from Leviathan, fallen from the surface eons before. The pendant on Prompto’s neck pulses in response to its call, reminding him of his position.

“Where were you?”

Aranea’s voice is steady, as blank as her impassive face when he halts in front of her. She rises from her seat to swim closer and flicks her fingers at Dino lingering at the doorway. “Leave us.”

With a bow, he pivots and gestures for the doors to close, leaving Prompto alone to face the consequences.

“I was worried,” she says.

A storm of guilt rises up in Prompto’s chest and he ducks his head. “I was with Cindy.”

Aranea sighs and traces the edges of his makeshift bandage. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

“There was a shark. I saved us.”

She hums, plucking idly at his bag to peer inside at the contents. She pulls one of the round pieces out. “Humans,” she says, a thousand years old in her weariness as she replaces the token. “You know we cannot trust them.”

“I know,” says Prompto. He stares at the crystal until his vision tunnels.

“They bring nothing but destruction and sorrow." The venom stings sharp in her voice and when she whirls around Prompto recoils.

It’s only half the truth, two sides of the same coin. Prompto thinks of their mother’s stories soaked in admiration and awe of trees and grass and animals far beyond their imagination; of humans and their creativity, tenacity, and perseverance. In the end, they were her downfall and an ache squeezes tight around his lungs as he fidgets with the strap of the bag. His treasures are her legacy - his connection to keep the memories of her alive - but as he goes to explain the words dry up in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Aranea says. She tips his head up, hand caressing the skin of his cheek. “Promise me you won’t go back to the shipwreck, or godforbid, the surface.” 

When he hesitates her mask cracks, the youth of her features belying the weight of their early inheritance leaking through. “Please. I can’t lose you too.”

Torn, Prompto thinks of his parents long gone and the pendent clasped heavy against his clavicle, of his mother’s stories of life above sea and all the wonderful things he’s seen, and makes his decision.

Behind his back he crosses his fingers. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts down below <3
> 
> [tumblr](http://thenameisfame.tumblr.com) | [writing blog](http://countingpaperstars.tumblr.com) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/thenameisfame)


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Better not lean over too far Highness, or you may get snapped up.”_
> 
> A storm brews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cruising right along~

The trick is to lay low in between excursions to lull them into a false sense of security before he steals away in the night to do exactly what he shouldn’t be. Prompto didn’t extend an invitation this time, leaving Cindy safely at home, and that’s how he wanted it to be. This was for him, and despite his sister’s warnings he couldn’t ever imagine giving up _this._

He lets the water carry him as he floats, submerged enough for his gills and to keep an ear open for any movement down below. A dark canvas of pinprick lights stretches overhead, vast swirls of color from horizon to horizon. It's calm apart from the clouds gathered in the distance, a storm looming near. When Prompto allows his mind to grow fuzzy, he slips into a space suspended between sea and sky.

The surface world is better when it’s dark and the burning light vanishes, replaced by thousands of smaller likeness he could stare at for hours. He loves to trace shapes between them, creating pictures and stories for his own amusement. It’s nature in its most basic state - alluring, unfathomable. With grasping fingers, he stretches his arm out high above him and wonders what it would be like to swim through the black above rather than below.

As he drifts, Aranea’s warnings running on loop in his mind. His pendant pulses soft blue as he drums his fingers on his chest and sighs. She had a point. It was their mother’s death in a long line of human related incidents which had been the final push for them to restrict their borders, but although the surface world is full of dangers it is also filled with wonders alike and he can’t help but think it may be worth it as he stares at the infinite expanse before him.

_Grief can easily be molded into hatred or fear,_ his mother had told him when another of their hunters came back to a mourning family. _Do not let it, for it’s simply love with nowhere to go demanding to be felt._

She’d gone in search of a resolution to the attacks only to return mortally injured, and Prompto’s chest grows tight as he considers her words. He grits his teeth, letting the water drain the tension as it laps at his hairline. It would dishonor her memory to turn his back on what he enjoys out of frustration. There must be two sides to everything, he thinks, and his mind goes back to the ship graveyard. The sea is neither wholly friend or foe, instead a balance of both. Perhaps the surface is the same or perhaps it’s merely wishful thinking. 

He’s contemplating whether he should return or linger a while longer when he hears it - the smooth cut of a ship’s bow through the waves.

Flipping over to investigate, he spies a glow in the distance unlike any of the heavens. It’s warmer, a faint gold like the glimmer of his own scales, and curiosity wins him over. He’s never seen a ship not sunken and desolate and the lure draws him along like a siren’s song.

It towers over him as he pulls alongside it and the design is much different than those in the graveyard, polished and new. Laughter floats along the breeze and Prompto sinks low until the sea passes over his nose to avoid being spotted. Apprehension follows him as he keeps pace, watching the shadows flicker high above in the light. No one’s by the rails, at least not on this side, and by the time Prompto finds what he’s looking for he’s nearly built up the courage. 

Aided by the conduit of his pendent, he stirs enough magic for the next swell to carry him to a narrow platform set beneath the railing and he flops against the cold metal, chest heaving. It doesn’t come as easily to him as it would to Aranea, who's gifted with the trident and full breadth of the crystal’s magic, and it drains the energy out of him like a sieve. It doesn’t help that it’s harder to breathe up here, the air caught awkwardly in his mouth as his gills dry and flatten against his neck. He’s never had to go without using them for long and the sensation is uncomfortable, but he presses his forehead to the hull of the ship and waits for his body to catch back up to him.

When he peers over the lip of the deck his eyes grow wide, taking in the warm, bright lights and chatter - the _humans_ gathered around socializing. They’re as different as the ship, clothes less bulky and layered as those in the faded portraits, and Prompto can hardly look away from their _legs_. He barely remembers to duck when one breaks away, striding towards the rail, and he presses further into the shadows. Against the cold metal he can feel the hum of power within the hull as he holds as still and peers up in awe.

The human is young, his delicate features lengthened in the shadows as he props his chin up on a hand and stares off into distance. Prompto’s heart pounds a staccato as he watches the human run a hand through his ink black hair which blends with the darkened sky. There’s a hint of wistful melancholy that speaks familiar in ways which make Prompto’s heart skip a beat. He wants to reach out to him, offer comfort but -

“Better not lean over too far Highness, or you may get snapped up.”

They both jump, Prompto shrinking into the shadows as another human joins the first. His arms settle against the side, as imposing as the breadth of his shoulders, and his long curls are pulled back to reveal a sharp scar set down across his brow and cheek. A warrior. Prompto quails, glancing at the water far down below and wondering if he could slip away unnoticed. It’s too late to jump ship when yet another man joins them, his hair impressively styled and his eyes hidden by some sort of little windows, and leans with his back against the railing.

“By what?” The first human laughs and it’s then Prompto registers the word _Highness._ He’s a prince - like Prompto in a way, though he’s unsure of whether the position holds the same connotation in their culture.

“Rumor has it Altissia lies below these waters,” says the large one with a sharp grin. Prompto’s blood freezes ice cold. 

Perhaps these humans are out to hunt down and dig up his home, but before he can panic and flee the last man snorts. “Merpeople,” he says indignantly. “Gladio, please. Nothing but a fairy tale notion to keep sailors entertained on long voyages.”

“I dunno Iggy. They could be down there right now wanting you to think that.”

Prompto smothers his amusement as best he can. If only they knew he was right there under their noses. Gladio shrugs at the blank look on Iggy's face. "All I'm saying is they've never found any ruins. Maybe Leviathan did save them from the floods after all."

"Perhaps," says Iggy, dryly. "You’re quiet tonight Noctis. We secured the treaty in Tenebrae, which is cause for celebration. Were neither of the Fleuret heirs to your liking?”

“I like Luna and Ravus fine, just not…”

Gladio claps a hand on Noctis' shoulder. “It’s okay, there’s no rush to these things.”

“Despite what the counsel may think,” adds Iggy, and the elegant line of Noctis’ lips twists. “You have time, Noct. We, your father and kingdom included, merely wish to see you happy.”

“If that were true you’d let me fish all day,” Noctis says, and Gladio’s resounding laughter follows them as they return to the center of the deck.

When Prompto peeks over the edge they’ve blended into the crowd, humans sharing drinks out of ornate glasses as they mingle. A few have taken up some sort of dance, floating across the deck with all the gracefulness of a current, and Prompto watches them balance on their legs with increasing awe as he muses over what he heard.

It's strange knowing their world is regarded as myth, but the reassurance of their anonymity is a comfort. His focus, however, is caught upon another revelation - Prince Noctis is in search of a mate, and a rather begrudging and unsuccessful one at. 

Prompto props his chin up on his hand as he watches the revelries and tries very hard not to let his imagination run away with him, turning Noctis' name over and over in his mind until it becomes a smooth stone in his mind. Back home no one caught Prompto's romantic interest for long, too preoccupied with his adventures and collection, but the prospect of courting him, a _human,_ feels a perfect fusion of the two. Before he knows it he's well ensnared by Noctis' ethereal beauty - caught in the bow of his lips and the gleam of his eye. His heart thuds alarmingly, but before he can suss out the meaning of that nonsense something drops down in front of his face with a sharp bark. 

Its tongue darts out to swipe rough against his cheeks and Prompto startles back with a cry, nearly toppling into the water. The creature is covered in soft fur and it's almost cute in the way it tilts its head and wags its tail, but the sharp teeth glinting in the light are warning enough.

“Umbra?”

It's Noctis again, the smooth timber of his voice sending shivers down Prompto back before he dives for the water, catching one last glimpse of the prince’s face as he goes. He doesn’t stop until he’s far beneath the ship, hidden in the dark murk of the sea. He presses a palm to his heart to hold its frantic beating in. A smile unfurls on his lips as he breathes deeply through his gills and revels in the tentative new spark taken up residence in his chest. He wants to keep it close, curiosity fueling the flame.

It's snuffed as a peel of thunder rolls overhead, reverberating down into the water and jarring his bones. The water stirs around him in a disorienting pull and as an alarm rings out from the vessel above his elation freezes into fear. A reel of the shipwrecks down below races through his mind and without another thought he swims for the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying this story so far I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It’s the angriest he’s ever seen the surface world - a ferocious display of power, humbling in its indifferent enormity._
> 
> A daring rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aliiiiive, sorry guys I moved apartments last weekend so it's been ridiculously busy on my end! Not to worry, this mermay story has just been extended into a mersummer tale for us to enjoy ahaha. I have about ten chapters outlined, but we'll see where we end up! Enjoy~

When Prompto breaks through the water, he’s dragged right back under. The sea’s moods have flipped in the blink of an eye - a mirror to the clouds which sat foreboding in the distance, now smothered close overhead. Thick humidity chokes the air, static raising the hair along Prompto’s arms. A less experienced swimmer would drown, but he’s a child of the sea itself, born of the currents which favor him as he makes for the ship fighting to stay upright among the steep, sloping waves.

Flinching at a bright flash, Prompto stares in awe at the spark that sears overhead. It lingers behind his eyelids as a rolling boom rings out close behind. It’s the angriest he’s ever seen the surface world - a ferocious display of power, humbling in its indifferent enormity. The airtight concern in his lungs keeps him afloat and he ducks his head low whenever the light signals another peel of noise.

He’s almost reached the ship when an echoing crack splits the air, followed by groaning metal and disorienting ring of alarms. They bounce in Prompto’s ears and he winces, retreating underwater for the rest of his journey.

The deck of the ship is in mayhem with passengers rushing in a frenzy and Prompto realizes that the light on board is not coming from the strange lamps he’d seen before, but a dancing blaze of yellow and orange licking along the far side. The people avoid it, shouting over the howling wind as they scramble into smaller boats along the sides. One by one they lower onto the choppy waves.

The decision is strange - surely they’d be safer from the water on the larger vessel - but another explosion cuts that thought, grey tendrils rising high as a wave of impossible heat washes over Prompto’s face. The ship is sinking, he realizes with a start and frantically scans the occupants of the boats for familiar faces.

A shout rises up, chasing a figure as they jump from the last boat onto the ladder steps hollowed into the hull. He almost doesn’t recognize Prince Noctis, clinging desperately to the slippery metal as he climbs, his clothes soaked and hair flat.

Heart leaping into his throat, Prompto speeds for the ship as it heaves another pitiful groan. Noctis disappears over the edge, concealed by the black cloud pouring from the deck to bleed into the matching shade overhead. The air crackles, sharp tang burning Prompto’s lungs as he desperately searches for the best place to ride the waves higher.

He’s reaching for his magic when he finally spots Noctis, a small figure teetering by the railing as the ships slides down another crest. There’s a lump thrown over his shoulders, shifting and dark and… _barking -_ the creature who had licked Prompto’s face!

The desire to hover close overcomes his wariness of the nearby lifeboats holding their ground. Noctis’ painstakingly climbs down the ladder and one pulls alongside, someone standing at the edge with outstretched arms tense and corded with muscles. Gladio catches Umbra as he’s passed over and there’s a shuffle as Ignis relieves him of the creature to reach for Noctis.

Their rain-slicked hands grasp and miss, the water thrashing to and fro. Another bright flash paints their brushing fingers in stark relief and Prompto’s gasp is lost in the bone-chilling crunch from the ship as it topples over.

Disoriented, he charges underwater in the direction of the lifeboat, stabilizing it from overturning with steady hands. When it’s steady he resurfaces a safe distance away, fear coursing through his veins. He dares to hope Noctis was pulled aboard faster than the changing tides but a cry rises up to dashes them to shreds.

“Noct! Noct, where are you?!”

Another crash threatens to shake the heavens loose in tandem with the spike in Prompto’s heart rate as he dives deep. It takes precious seconds to reorient himself without the constant light and noise and more still to navigate the debris and chaos of the sinking ship. He dodges and weaves through the wreckage, gaze sharp as he searches desperately for any sign of the prince.

Panic wells up within his chest, threatening to smother him as he hunts, and doesn't ease when he spies Noctis sinking slowly with his ship, unconscious and limp. His skin is warm when Prompto grabs him, wrapping strong arms around his waist and swimming for the surface.

The currents have carried them further out, the storm ravaging and hungry; threatening to pull them under as Prompto desperately searches for the lifeboats. Noctis hacks and heaves, coughing up water until the puff of his breath is a comfort against the wet skin of Prompto’s neck. Relief comes - short lived at the weeping cut along Noctis' forehead and the pale hue of his lips.

With no help in sight and the ship swallowed to a condemned watery grave, Prompto props Noctis’ head upon his shoulder and settles onto his back to steer his tail in the direction he thinks the ship had been headed. He’s unsure of how long they float, the prince’s head lolling limp against his neck, until at last the sea calms and the sky breaks to reveal slivers of the lights above.

Day breaks by the time the shore rolls into view, washed in pale blue glow as the waves rock back and forth. In his arms, Noctis shivers despite the heat shared between them and the desperation to see him well and alive fills Prompto with the strength to coerce his aching arms and fins into motion.

Prompto struggles to move further onto the beach, the sand sticking along his belly and scales, gritty and coarse. When he’s sure the water is shallow enough that Noctis won’t drown he lays him down, satisfied with the steady rise and fall of his chest despite the way the air chafes at Prompto’s own throat.

Noctis is even more handsome up close - hair brushed back from his brow where it lies damp against the sand, the proud line of his jaw sharp, and the fine dusting of lashes brushing against his smooth skin. The bow of his lips catches Prompto’s eyes as he reaches out a finger to trace the rise of the his cheeks, but he yanks his hand back when Noctis makes a distressed noise, eyes fluttering.

“It’s okay,” Prompto soothes, stroking his fingers through Noctis’ soft hair. “You’re safe.”

He’s unsure if Noctis is fully conscious, the flitting blue of his eyes concealed once more as he stills. A lullaby from childhood comes to mind, Prompto humming the notes as he takes stock of their surroundings.

A half-formed wooden bridge extends further down the shore, stretching out into the water. Prompto wonders where exactly it’s supposed to be leading as it’s hardly an ambitious attempt at crossing the ocean. He’s distracted by the view beyond it - rolling hills of blinding greens and other fauna unlike that of the underwater world and beyond it the towering castle spires rise to scrape the sky above. It’s similar to the foundation architecture of his home, reflected in the arches and designs. This one is much shinier, full of glistening edges and sprawling wings of rooms. A quaint town sits nestled beside it, buildings lined up in neat rows.

Color comes to the world in a rush as daylight peeks over the horizon and Prompto squints against the brightness, refusing to let up his hand's rhythm in Noctis’ hair. His song evolves, building anew with words strung together like pearls to speak of a new dawn. Noctis has settled, the furrow in his brow easing, and Prompto smiles.

He wants so badly to lean down and press their foreheads together, to lie beside him until he opens his eyes, but a shout in the distances has Prompto rocketing up, tune cut off in a snap and left to grow stale. Beneath his touch Noctis stirs, groaning as he moves a hand to the cut on his forehead and Prompto jolts back, whirling away to dive into the sea.

He may as well have left his heart behind on the beach for how still it goes in his chest, frozen as he peeks over the water a fair enough distance away to avoid being spotted. Umbra bounds into view and Prompto smiles as Gladio and Ignis follow close behind, all of them surrounding Noctis as he’s thoroughly checked over.

When at last he's bundled off towards the town, Prompto’s chest gives a woeful ache and he turns away from the sprawling beauty of the land before him. Aranea was wrong; the surface is nothing short of beautiful and Prompto's prepared to do everything he can to see it, and Prince Noctis, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have first contact! I'd love to hear your thoughts down below <3


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aranea finds him there, draped over a rock with his cheek pressed to the cold stone. She settles down beside him, reaching out to gently touch his hand. “Brother, something troubles you.”_
> 
> Secrets are discovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to pick up the pace! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

The half-formed wooden platform is not a bridge, but rather, something called a dock and it’s where Prompto finds Prince Noctis more often than not, a fishing line thrown into the water. There’s a pattern to his visits from the citadel, but Prompto can’t slip away as often as he’d like and times his own visits to that of every seventh moon.

“Still hoping you’ll remember more?” Ignis asks, and Prompto sinks low in the water beneath the dock as the wood creaks overhead. There’s always someone to accompany the prince down to the shore, which begs the need for careful discretion. He watches the idle swing of Noctis’ feet in fascination, restraining the urge to reach out and touch.

“I can’t get that song out of my head.”

Noctis hums a string of notes, the melody a tentative match for the one Prompto had sang the night of the storm. The notes hang over the water, as much an invitation as anything - one Prompto know he can’t accept. Not like this. 

Overhead, Noctis sighs. “I know I didn’t just wash up on shore Ignis.”

“I believe you.”

They fall into silence, the water lapping at the support beams as feathered creatures in the air sing their songs. Fish gather near Prompto out of curiosity, one or two pausing to nibble at Noctis’ line. It’s an ineffective tool for fishing compared to the nets and lures they use in the hunting grounds back home, but it seems to be more of a hobby than a necessity, judging by how many perfect ones Noctis throws back to the sea. 

He’s kind; thoughtful of his companions and humorous when given the right company and occasion. Sometimes a melancholy settles over him like a shroud and he'll stare across the water as the light turns the sea gold and red, quiet and withdrawn, like a worn out piece of driftwood that’s been beat against the rocks one too many times. On those days it’s hardest not to reach out to take his hand. 

With every glimpse into Noctis’ life, the affectionate tempest in Prompto’s chest swells. He wants to be up there with the others; wants to know what makes Noctis so pensive, what makes him laugh.

Nails clicking against the dock pull him from his thoughts, a sharp bark echoing across the shore from Umbra. Prompto jumps when his snout drops over the edge upside-down, tongue lolling in a grin. He has to stifle a laugh when he licks his cheek and freezes when Noctis’ feet tuck up from view.

“What is it Umbra?”

It’s all the warning he needs, ducking underwater to dart for the deeper sea, and he breathes easy when he’s far from view. Adrenaline pounds through his veins and the habitual fear stirs in his chest. It’s not the first time he’s come close to being discovered, but the glimpses into life on land far outweigh any trepidation that clings to him.

“What are you doing,” someone hisses, and a hand grabs his arm. “It’s dangerous here.”

Prompto yanks away from Dino. “I’m fine,” he snaps. “I’ve been keeping safe.”

“Safe? You were hiding right beneath their noses!”

Guilt seeps in through the cracks of Prompto's resolve despite his belief otherwise. He knows he’s taunting fate by drawing so near, putting too much faith in his abilities to remain out of sight, but the surface world is an alluring trap with its vibrant purples and oranges and pinks in contrast to the muted blues and greens underwater - and so is _Noctis._

“Dino _please_ , don’t tell Aranea I was up here.” It would crush her to know he’d purposefully gone against her wishes.

They stare each other down, Dino’s eyes sharp and face blank. “Swear to me.”

“What?”

“Swear to me you won’t return to the surface again.”

The sea is quiet, vast stretch of nothing all around them, and the silence amplifies the thrum of Prompto’s pulse in his ears, the ice running through his veins. “I can’t,” he says softly. “You know I can’t.”

“Is life so awful down here that you feel the need to act like such an insolent brat? Have you no respect for your sister’s wishes? No love for your people?” Dino's words are the needles of an urchin. “Do you think only of yourself? Of your foolish daydreams fueled by the currents of your carelessness? Your mother didn’t _die_ for you to throw away your life for the sake of a human!”

Prompto flinches as if slapped, eyes burning with salt and his chest with shame, and he’s glad when Dino turns away. “Forgive me, that was out of line,” he says wearily. “I'll keep quiet as long as you never return here again.”

Without waiting for a reply Dino starts for home and Prompto follows, thoroughly chastised. The distance between him and Noctis pulls taunt. It follows him home, a hollow in his chest aching relentlessly, and he resorts to hiding in the gardens, watching the floating petals and stalks sway and sighing. Anyone who asks for an audience is denied - even Cindy, despite the guilt that flares up when he does. 

Aranea finds him there, draped over a rock with his cheek pressed to the cold stone. She settles down beside him, reaching out to gently touch his hand. “Brother, something troubles you.” 

A crab scuttles away through the brush, a muted red beneath the green, and Prompto shrugs.

“Or should I say some _one_?”

She has a knowing grin on her face, lazily flicking her tail in satisfaction of having guessed correctly. “I know lovesickness when I see it. Who is so lucky to have won your affection?”

The bubble of shame and guilt rises up, threatening to suffocate him, and Prompto averts his gaze. His secret itches at him like sand embedded between his scales with the truth heavy on the tip of his tongue, a dam against a typhoon of heartache and confusion. Maybe if he tells her, she’ll at least listen to his story. Aranea is his blood and lifeline, surely she’ll find it in herself to forgive his mistakes?

No, that’s the wrong word. Noctis isn’t a mistake and neither is the surface world, but he has to try and reason with her, to negotiate. It won't be long before it spills out and he’d rather it comes from him than from Dino.

He trains his gaze on the cracks in the rock as he tells her - tells her everything from the day with Cindy in the graveyard on; the storm, the surface world, _Noctis_ \- and when he finishes all he can hear is the distant sounds of the city around the palace. He looks up to meet her eyes, hard as steel, and knows he’s chosen wrong.

She says nothing, silver hair billowing and clacking with beads and trinkets as she takes off down the halls. Her rage swells in a silent storm and he chases after her, reaching for her arm as she turns to his rooms. “Aranea please, listen.”

“You disobeyed me,” she says. “Lied to me, turned a blind ear to my pleas. The opportunity for listening has passed.”

The direct dismissal stings, and Prompto watches in horror as she grabs his arranged trinkets and shoves them into a nearby bag. “Enough of this nonsense,” she says, voice cracking along with one of the delicate silver pieces. “You’ll see the end if you continue like this. I won’t allow it to happen. In love with a _human._ ”

“Stop,” he says, voice croaking halfway through. “Stop!” 

The first two shelves have been wiped clear by the time he darts forward to snatch the bag from her. These are his treasures, his connection to their mother, and she’s taking them away from him to toss aside like trash. 

The pressure in his chest splits like a fissure as they fight and the bag tears when Aranea forgets her own strength and tosses him back. He hits the wall hard, slumping against it, and Prompto blinks to clear the woozy blur from his eyes, breath coming short and fast.

Aranea reaches out, but when he flinches she redirects the hand to press against her forehead instead, clenching her eyes shut. Her voice is steady when she speaks, the calm facade of her political mask back in place. “You’re forbidden to leave the palace grounds until further discussion.”

She turns to leave, pausing in the doorway. “This is for your own good,” she says, then disappears down the hall.

The empty shelves she leaves behind are splinters digging underneath Prompto’s skin, demanding him to hurt and breaking through the emptiness within him until it aches, and he allows himself to break down in the solitude of his room. He lets it run its course, counting backwards in his head as he scrambles to think of what to do next. The call of the surface has only tightened its hold on him in the wake of Aranea’s anger, and he can’t help but wonder if he’ll even be missed at all if he left. Only by Cindy and his sister, maybe, and they can learn to survive and move on.

It’s with steady hands that he packs his bag, slipping out the window past the guards, and out of Altissia. He sets a course for the far north, brow setting in determination as he swims. It’ll take a few days journey at the least, if what he’s chasing down is anything more than a legend.

If those closest to him won’t help, he knows exactly who will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something wicked this way comes~ thoughts?


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I wouldn’t touch if I were you. Fire is a fickle thing.”_
> 
> Prompto seeks what he desires and makes a deal with the devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OTL it's been so long. Hope you enjoy this update! This was the first scenes I wrote for this fic, I'm very fond of it :D Sea witch Ardyn is a favorite <3 Thank you to Em for inspiring this story in the first place and to Tera for being rad as hell.
> 
> Enjoy~

The water inside is cold and still in the shaded cavern beyond. Prompto flicks his tail anxiously but swims further in, following the carved bend of rock until the water ends. It’s silent, save for the gentle waves lapping at the edges where they meet the stone, and Prompto’s eyes adjust to the darkness like they do the deep sea.

There’s a makeshift house built against the far wall of the cave, separated from the water by a large, circled pit in the floor over which a rounded container rests. The natural curves of the worn down walls have been re-utilized as shelves, piled high with bottles and boxes and bundles of dried plants and other things Prompto has never seen before mixed in with a few he has.

He waits in the silence, long enough to wonder if the tales really are just that, but when he turns to leave light crackles to life. Sparks of brilliant oranges and reds spring up in a line along the walls, spiraling until they meet in the middle like an army of miniature suns. Prompto ducks low into the water, but the light doesn’t leave. It dances atop waxy cylinders with a mesmerizing glow, the ends of his hair curling in the warmth.

“Well then, what do we have here?” a voice drawls, echoing in the hollow spaces, and Prompto shrinks back. A heavy-soled boot drops down on the stone with a resounding thud as a looming figure emerges from the wavering shadows. “A little fish has lost its way.”

It takes everything in Prompto to not turn tail and leave as quickly as possible. He thinks of the prince - of his striking blue eyes and tilted smile, his compassion and laughter - and finds the strength to hold his ground. 

The sharp cut of the man’s grin lingers like an unfamiliar promise, his amber eyes glinting in the light of the dancing suns. He’s wearing a shirt that may have once been white, but has faded over time – stark under a wild mane of burgundy locks twisted with braids, beads, and leather cords. Weathered work has worn his hands rough like the beard that stubbles his jaw.

“No need to be shy now,” the man says, stepping to the edge of the water. “I know why you’re here.”

Wary, Prompto drifts a little closer. “Are you the sea witch?”

The man’s eyes flash with something akin to malice, but it’s gone in a blink. 

“Is that what they’re calling me these days?” he asks. “I was once heralded the greatest healer of the time, but yes, I suppose that would be me. You may call me Ardyn.” He makes an open gesture with his hand and Prompto stutters out his name in return.

“A _pleasure_ , I’m sure. Now, tell me darling, what is it you seek?”

Prompto reaches out to steady himself, fingers curling against the rough stone in front of Ardyn’s feet. He stares at them for a long moment before glancing up shyly through his lashes. “I heard you’re able to alter your form – that you can change between tail and legs at will. Is this true?”

The question draws earns him a laugh, short and barbed. “My dear, I am able to take on whatever form suits me best at the time,” he says, “but that's hardly a request. What do you _desire_ , dear Prompto?”

The question echos through the cave and knocks around Prompto’s mind until it settles in time with his heartbeat. He stares at the intricate strings running up the front of the man’s foot coverings.

“I wish… for human legs,” Prompto says, eyes averted as shame burns hotly in his cheeks. It sounds like a silly fantasy, fragile as it’s spoken into the air outside the tender cocoon of his chest. 

“Well, I daresay you’re in luck. You’re hardly the first I’ve helped with such a request." Ardyn saunters to the shelves and trails his long fingers over the dried plants. The glass jars full of viscous liquids slosh when he taps them. "I can give you what you want." He pauses, shadows cutting fierce across his wide smile. “For a price.”

Prompto’s stomach drops. “I don’t have anything to pay you with.”

“Oh, believe me, there’s always _something_.” The way his eyes rake over Prompto make him feel as slick as the skin of an eel, but it only fuels Ardyn’s amusement. “The things we do for love.”

The word is a shock, water sloshing Prompto jolts and blushes. He stutters out a denial but Ardyn tutts loudly. “I’ve walked this world a long time so it is easy to see truth. Who is so lucky as to have won your favor?”

“The prince,” Prompto says, pressing his heated cheek against the cool stone. It goes deathly quiet and he peeks up to catch the tail end of a storm pass over Ardyn’s features, gone so quickly he wonders if he imagined it.

Ardyn drops into a crouch, holding Prompto fast by a strong grip under his chin when and pulling him forward. The rough rock scratching at his soft underbelly and Prompto squirms uncomfortably, but stills as Ardyn tilts his head, calloused fingers deceptively gentle. His lips part, but before his gaze catches on something else, eyes wide as they drop.

He lets go, Prompto reeling backwards before he’s yanked back in by the chain around his neck, metal biting into his skin. The soft glow of the crystal shard illuminates Ardyn’s face from below in a fractured caricature.

“Where did you get this?” he hisses. Magic crackles in the air, thick and heavy with ancient power.

“It – it was given to me." Prompto's hands grapple against Ardyn’s fingers. “A gift from the crystal of our city.”

It seems to be enough of an answer and this time when Arden lets go Prompto throws his weight to put space between them, sinking into the water’s familiar caress. The salt burns in the scrapes where his skin meets scale.

Ardyn’s face stays blank, eyes boring into Prompto with all the weight of the water above his home. It stokes the uneasy panic threatening to smother him.

Flashes of bright red and orange spring up in the centered pit, not unlike the small ones lining the cave, but it drives a wall of heat into Prompto and he ducks underwater to recover. When he resurfaces, the light has calmed and he drifts closer to the shore to peer curiously at it from afar. It’s beautiful, wavering in an unpredictable dance. Mesmerized, his fingers twitch against the stone in desire.

“I wouldn’t touch if I were you. Fire is a fickle thing.” The corners of Ardyn’s lips tick up, and Prompto draws his hand back from where it had been curiously stretching out. “Now then,” he says, pouring some liquid from a large jar into the pot, "we should discuss terms of the contract.”

Prompto watches his nimble fingers tear leaves from an herb sprig and mix them in, spice heady in the air. “Contract?”

“Oh my dear, I am nothing but a man of my word,” says Ardyn, and he throws something in that makes the steam flash purple before simmering to a hazy grey. “A contract will ensure our deal upholds at the end of the agreement.”

“What would you like?” 

Worry churns in Prompto’s gut. He’s has nothing by way of offering and curses his stupidity for not bringing along a few treasures as penance. If he can’t pay the price, it's a dead end to his last resort. Ardyn’s feral grin does nothing to settle him.

“Nothing too steep,” he says. “I will give you two weeks in which you must win the prince’s favor. If you succeed, you’ll have your legs with which to spend forever with your dearest love.”

That isn’t a lot of time. It's barely enough for Prompto to steel himself for social events at the palace. “And if I don’t?”

“You’ll be mine instead.”

Prompto’s chest snags and Ardyn nonchalantly stirs the concoction as if he didn’t just drop an anchor on him. He measures out a dose into an empty glass flask and fixes a stopper in the top. “Having second thoughts?”

Prompto hesitates. “No matter if I succeed or I fail, there's a chance I’ll never see home again.”

“Life is full of impossible choices, isn’t it?” Ardyn’s eyes drop down to his pendant. “Don’t you wish to see your dear Prince Noctis again?”

The question pulls the chords wrapped tight around Prompto’s lungs and he wants so terribly that the emotion threatens to drown him. “How will we determine if I’ve won his favor?”

“A kiss, I’d say,” says Ardyn, and Prompto blushes despite having expected as much. Noctis is different than his few passing fancies back home and the thought burns hot in his chest. “Freely given, not taken.”

He holds out his hand for the bottle and Ardyn dangles it out of reach. “Ah, ah, not quite. We haven’t yet come to terms of payment.”

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Nonsense! I’m not asking much, just a trinket really," Ardyn's eyes gleam. "Your voice.”

“My voice?” Prompto frowns and touches his neck. “How – how will I win his favor if I can’t even sp-“

“Oh, don’t be so modest dear. You’ll still have your pretty face and let’s not forget the importance of _body language._ ” He laughs and Prompto grimaces, filthy beneath his gaze.

“You’ll never even miss it. Just your voice… and this.” His trails his hand along the line of Prompto’s throat before tugging at the chain of his pendant.

The blood in Prompto’s veins freezes. He’s had his crystal since the day he was born, given to him by parents he can’t even remember. It's every bit a part of him as his tail. It’s his birthright, a gift to the royal line of Altissia, and handing it over to this stranger feels _wrong_ , like losing his identity. But isn’t he already giving that up to begin with?

“Will it hurt?” he asks.

Ardyn’s silence is answer enough.

Wavering like fire, Prompto hesitates, heart pounding against his chest. His decision hovers in the air, a suspended coin halted mid-flip as he turns it over and over in his mind. He considers giving up - living with the heartache and retreating back to the safety he’s always known - and looks to the uncertain darkness ahead - to his possible futures, to _Noctis_ \- and knows.

“Do we have a deal?”

Prompto ducks his head to slip the necklace off and the crystal fragment pulses weakly before falling dark in Ardyn’s grip. He chants, muttering under his breath in a long lost language, the words twisting and falling like the shadows that dance on the walls. “Now, sing.”

Shy at the command, Prompto softly sings a familiar melody. It sounds different than it did the beach, the edges of the notes curling soft against the walls of the cave. Ardyn’s delighted grin grows as his voice rises like the swell of a wave. Pressure builds in Prompto’s throat, as if he swallowed too much seawater instead of breathing through his gills, until the tune cuts off harshly, his crystal flashing yellow before falling dark.

Prompto’s hands fly up, trying to speak and finding nothing but silence. It’s strange and unsettling how powerless he feels without his words. He snaps his mouth shut in shock and before he has a chance to panic about it, he’s pulled into a rough kiss. He struggles, but Ardyn’s hold is strong. It’s nothing like the chaste embraces he's exchanged with others before, sloppy and overbearing. A blinding red hits his eyes when they finally separate, shimmering lines circling around his throat and link to the pendant hanging from Ardyn’s fingers. The magic shatters, vanishing, and Prompto raises a hand to rub at his neck, wondering if he’s imagining the heavy weight.

“The contract is sealed,” says Ardyn, and he holds out the vial. “A deal’s a deal.”

Prompto nods, fingers gripping tight around the bottle he’s traded _everything_ for. All for a chance at an uncertain future. He goes to unstop it, but is halted by a click of Ardyn’s tongue. “I wouldn’t take that until you’re close to the shore. Unless, you’d rather put your new limbs to the test immediately.”

The liquid sloshes innocuously and Prompto looks from it to Ardyn, hovering uneasily without a real way to bid him goodbye. 

“Go on then.” Ardyn dismisses him w a flick of his hand and with a final bow of his head, Prompto retreats from the cave.

In the vast sea beyond, panic bubbles within his gut as he wonders exactly what he’s done. The press of the future threatens to crush him, but it’s eclipsed by his determination as he thinks of the brighter possibility. He grasps the bottle firmly and heads for land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear... :0 thoughts? Thank you to everyone who reads, kudos, and appreciates this story ;; I reread your comments all the time <3


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _As his gaze sharpens, so do the grains of sand beneath his cheek in clarity._
> 
> Prompto's first steps forward and a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for~ Hope you enjoy!

It’s near daybreak when Prompto reaches the surface, the barest hint of light peeking over the horizon. Overhead, the never-ending expanse of stars stretches out in every direction. He grips the glass bottle in his hands tightly to stop his hands from shaking.

The jetty isn’t much further and he tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do as he heads for it. The sky blushes soft pink by the time he reaches the shallows, sand scattering beneath his tail as he further inland. He’d rather not drown before he got the hang of his…

Prompto stops, half submerged as he stares at the crowning turrets of the castle over the hill. He can’t go back now, not after everything. The burning imprint of the contact sears behind his eyelids, as if the bond hangs stretched far across the sea, but when he raises a hand to touch at his neck all he feels is the soft skin of his gills. The innocuous liquid swirls inside the bottle and clenches his jaw. He shoves down his thoughts of Altissia - his home, his family, and the space he never felt he truly filled - and concentrates on the possibility of his future. He flexes his free hand in the sand. It’s almost within his reach.

He uncorks the bottle, throwing back the potion in one decisive swallow. The taste barely registers and he squeezes his eyes shut as he waits.

Nothing.

He stares down at the empty bottle with rocks sinking low in his stomach. Figures. What else could he have expected from a cunning sea witch? Without legs, it’s impossible to fulfill his end of the bargain.

A searing pain shoots up his spine and he cries out, falling to his elbows in the gritty sand. He digs his hands in, clenching as fire twists in his veins. It hurts - so much he'd black out if it weren’t for the excruciating pain in his tail. Every restructuring snap of his bones echoes in his body, ligaments tearing and rearranging into new muscles that have never known the strength of swimming and flesh that’s never felt the kiss of the ocean salt. Air tears at his throat as he coughs water free, gills vanishing beneath his scrabbling fingers.

It stops as soon as it began, pain vanishing in a rush as he collapses to the ground. He closes his eyes as the nausea rolls over him in waves, fear pounding heavy in his heart. The water laps at his waist in gentle reassurance as he collects his thoughts. Never before has breathing felt so thick and unnatural.

When he blinks his eyes open the heat of the day has risen and although the light glares blindingly off the white of the beach, it no longer hurts his eyes as it did before. As his gaze sharpens, so do the grains of sand beneath his cheek in clarity. He finds the strength to sit up and freezes, propped on his elbows as he stares down where his tail has vanished. The reflection is distorted, but it’s unmistakable - two pale, freckled _legs._

He levels himself up to sit, afraid to blink and have them disappear before his eyes, and slips a hand beneath the water to touch them. They’re soft and covered in fine, blonde hair. He wiggles his toes, reveling in the strange sensation before reaching down to feel along the arches of his feet.

A laugh bubbles up before he remembers, the sound dying in a huff of air as his hand flies to his throat. The words won’t come, sludge stuck in his chest, and the reality of what he’s done creeps in.

First he has to get out of the water, he thinks, and his stomach rolls in apprehension. Leaving the sea means officially leaving his home, his very comfort for being, but there’s no going back - not unless he wants to end up as Ardyn’s. Forever. He left his home behind the minute he signed the contract.

Prompto rolls over onto his hands and knees, tottering precariously before heaving to his feet. He sways with the rolling tide, toes curling as he tries to keep his balance. Humans make it look a lot easier than it is.

Despite the way the world quakes beneath his feet, he can’t restrain his unabashed glee. The world is different from up here, closer. All the wonders of life on land are within reach and Prompto grins. He wants to run and dance like the humans do, wants to feel the greenery and taste their food, wants to discover all the things his mother told him stories of for himself.

When he takes his first step he cries out silently, crashing back down to his hands. Pain reverberates in his legs, as if his body knows they aren’t his to keep, until it ebbs away. Prompto grits his teeth and tries again.

It’s uncoordinated and sloppy, his footing threatening to fall out from beneath him with every step, but eventually he reaches a large rock. He props up against it, chest heaving. Even as his skin dries an uncomfortable tackiness sticks to his skin, a droplet sliding down his brow as the light burns higher in the sky.

As he debates his next step, his thoughts are interrupted by a sharp bark. He twists around, almost tipping over in his eagerness, and spots the furry creature from before racing across the beach. It leaps onto the rock, licking all over his face with a damp tongue, and Prompto huffs in delight.

“Umbra!”

Prompto jerks away before he remembers he doesn’t need to hide. He tucks his face shyly behind Umbra anyway, watching from beneath his lashes as Prince Noctis slows to a walk and stops a few feet away.

“Oh,” the prince says. “I didn’t realize someone was here.”

He’s every bit as beautiful as he was when Prompto fished him from the sea, gentle countenance with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. All the pain, the hardship and worry, vanishes, something soft and warm filling up the empty space it leaves behind. Prompto opens his mouth and snaps it shut.

Noctis mirrors his frown. “Are you all right?”

With a nod, Prompto attempts to stand again on his own. Umbra leaps off the rock, circling around and knocking into him with enough force to pitch him forward.

With a shout, Noctis catches him and holds him steady. His arms are firm and warm and Prompto leans into them heavily, glancing up to see red spill across Noctis’ cheeks like paint. He coughs awkwardly, gaze lifted to the sky, and Prompto glances down at himself in confusion.

“Here let me just..." Noctis maneuvers them enough to slip off the top layer of what he’s wearing and passes it over.

Prompto realizes he’s never seen a bare human and that it must be frowned upon in their society. The cloth is finely made, texture smooth and well worn. He’s unsure of exactly how to put it on, but wagers his best guess and sticks his arms through the holes, pulling the edges close around him.

When he’s decent, Noctis meets his eyes, doing up a series of clasps. “There,” he says, with a breathtaking smile. “Much better.”

Holding tight to his arms for support, Prompto twists one way and then the other to see how the covering looks on him. It feels weird and bulky, both shielding him from the heat of the day and stifling it. The black is stark against his skin and comes down to it rest at the tops of his thighs. When he buries his nose in the collar he smells Noctis and smiles.

Their eyes meet and Prompto’s chest squeezes. Noctis’ brow furrows, his gaze flickering back and forth in a deep blue like the heart of the ocean framed with delicate lashes. The slope of his nose and curve of his jaw are carved from the finest sea rock, smoothed by the gentle roll of the currents.

His hands tighten on Prompto’s arms, shifting closer in the barest of movements. “Have we met before?”

It’s no less frustrating the second time when Prompto opens his mouth to no avail. He sighs in resignation and taps his throat, chin angled up.

Realization dawns in Noctis’ eyes and Prompto tries hard not to get lost in their horizon. It doesn’t seem real, to be here on land and in the arms of someone he’s yearned so long for. He wishes it were under better circumstances, but this is the hand he's dealt himself and he’s determined to see it through.

“Are you hurt?” 

When Prompto shakes his head, Noctis glances around the beach. “How did you end up here? Were you shipwrecked?”

The storm flashes through Prompto’s mind, howling winds and relentless currents. He thinks again of how far he is from home, of how high the stakes are, and exhaustion makes its home in his bones. He shrugs in something that could be confirmation or denial and leans into Noctis’ comforting hold.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, voice softening low. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Prompto wishes with all his heart it were true. He’s determined to make it so.

Straightening up in all his determined regal posture, Noctis glances towards the castle in the distance. “Let’s get you inside. My friend Ignis will know was to do.” It’s a familiar name and Prompto thinks back to the accented man he’d seen on the ship. He’s pulled from his memories when Noctis slides an arm around his waist, holding Prompto's across his shoulders.

It’s slow work as they make their way across the beach. The pain in Prompto’s legs dulls to a monotonous white noise in the back of his mind, but his legs refuse to fully cooperate. And if he exaggerates it to lean more into the firm line of Noctis’ body, well, no one is the wiser.

Umbra darts up and down the path, pausing to sniff at the jewel-colored plants lining the way. Ahead lies the castle - Noctis’ home, a whole new world to explore, and hopefully, Prompto’s future. A giddy batch of nerves tighten in his chest and Prompto sets his jaw, ready to face it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins :3c Let me know your thoughts? Love you all so much, thank you for reading <3


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